An Old Soul
by mollcat
Summary: Severus encounters a new ghost roaming Hogwarts, but she is more than she seems, and could make all the difference in the war against Voldemort.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.  These lovely characters are the fine work of J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1

Elena lounged languorously against the marble banister as she looked down at the children flooding into the entrance hall.  She had seen the faces and the uniforms change over time, but some things were always the same.  The excitement, the laughter, the anxiety of the first years, the lust of reunited boyfriends and girlfriends.  

She had seen every single entering class, either as a member of the living or a ghost, and seeing the Hogwarts students on the first day of school always made her feel alive again.  

Walking down one of the enormous staircases, Elena drifted into the great hall to watch the sorting hat at his work.  He had become a bit shabby looking over time, and certainly more eccentric, but he was still a very skilled magical object.  She settled into the corner and grinned as a shaky, slightly pigeon-toed brunette took a seat on the stool.  The sorting hat eventually barked out "Hufflepuff" and Amicia Aaron trotted over to join her housemates.

Elena had seen that one coming.  She hadn't guessed wrong for at least one hundred years.  She had come close, seven years ago, when Harry Potter had taken his turn, but she had decided his eyes were too unguarded to be a Slytherin, and had placed her bets with Gryffindor.  Correct once again.  

When her eyes had passed over this year's crop of new students she settled on the staff.

Releasing a sigh Elena examined this year's addition.  The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, no doubt.  He looked like another Gilderoy Lockhart, with long blond hair and striking blue eyes.  

Her vision shimmered for an instant and Elena's curiosity was sparked.  He was wearing a glamoury.  Stalking closer, she looked past the magic that was woven into his appearance and saw a man that was still very handsome, but with different coloring.  

The real man had black hair and dark blue eyes that appeared almost black.  His features, though still attractive, were a bit more defined, and there were subtle creases around his mouth that hinted at past burdens.  Whatever this new teacher was, he was not a Lackhart-esque fop.

Having satisfied her curiosity with the new professor, at least momentarily, Elena turned her eyes on the returning teachers.  Albus looked more weary than he had last year.  He was finally getting old.  Though age and death were not new things for Elena, she had witnessed it thousands of times, the thought of losing Albus pained her.

The headmaster had never seen her, she had never made her presence known, and she doubted that he had read of her in any history books.  Salazar had made sure to erase all evidence of her existence after her death.  Nevertheless, the felt compassion and respect for the old man.  He was a good and powerful wizard, characteristics that were rarely found within the same person, and he felt genuine love for his charges at Hogwarts.  His death would be a great loss to the wizarding world, and a great gain for Voldemort.

Voldemort…the name brought a scowl to Elena's features.  She hadn't liked him when he had been simple Tom Riddel, a student of impressive, but not unheard of, talent.  

Pushing the wretch from her thoughts, Elena's gaze landed on Minerva, one of the most uptight women she had ever had the opportunity to meet.  If she hadn't known Minerva in her wilder days, Elena would have had a hard time believing she was head of Gryffindor.  

She then passed on to Sara Sprout and Poppy Pomfrey, who had their heads bowed together.  Elena had watched the women's relationship grow and alter over the years, and their love was so wonderfully comforting that she sometimes felt jealous of the mortal couple.

Trelawny was looking misty and confused, no doubt pretending to have a vision.  If she had an inkling of an inner eye she might see that everyone knew she was an enormous fraud.  Rolling her eyes, Elena looking away as Sybil began speaking in 'tongues.'  It sounded suspiciously like pig latin.

Her gaze quickly passed over Ursula Hooch, whose eyes still bothered Elena, a creature who had seen many a disturbing sight during her overly-long existence.  Vilnius Vector and Linus Binns were engaged in a discussion about Irish faralluries, a cross between a gnome and a pixie.  Smiling, Elena watched as Rubeus Hagrid helped himself to a second serving of roast pig.  She had always had a soft spot for the half giant that was contantly rescuing creatures that would sooner bite off your hand than let you pet them.  Elizabeth Pince sat at one end of the staff table, and Elena pondered why every Hogwarts librarian had been an uptight spinster, and why each had looked the part to a perfect T.  Deciding that it must be some sort of universal law, her eyes settled on the dark figure that lurked at the opposite end of the table.

Severus Snape was sipping from a wine glass that he held within his delicate grasp.  The potions masters were always the most graceful of creatures, since coordination and subtlety were prerequisites for the post…without them you would blow yourself up before completing your apprenticeship.  Elena had always found Severus' presence disturbing.  He reminded her too much of when she was alive, and the memories were not good ones.  Tall, dark, brooding, with a malicious streak, he was very much like the namesake of the house for which he served as head.

His eyes scanned the room, and for a moment Elena actually thought his gaze had come to rest on her, but his slightly glazed expression told her he saw nothing at all, lost in his own thoughts.  Elena suspected they were not pleasant musings.

As with all things that went on within the castle, Elena was aware of Severus' role as a double-agent, a servant of Voldemort whose only true loyalty lie with Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.  She had watched their struggle against the darkness for the past two years, since Voldemort had revealed his presence to the wizarding world once again.  Elena had spent centuries watching Hogwarts without interfering.  She had never felt tempted to return to the world from which she had been expelled.  But now…now she was pushed to act by some unknown force.  The desire to reveal herself, the need to aid these valiant men and women in their task weighed heavily upon her.  Conjuring a chair, Elena sat and pondered her intentions.  

She watched as Nearly Headless Nick welcomed back his Gryffindors and the Bloody Baron scared the first-years senseless.  She new that she could become visible to people like the ghosts of Hogwarts, but she had not revealed herself to anyone since Salazar had died.  She wondered if she had forgotten how.  Shaking her head sharply she banished the idle thought.  She remembered how to show herself, and silly excuses would not banish this need to help.

She would reveal herself soon, but she was not sure of what action she would take to aid the Order.  It was not really her place to interfere with the living.  Perhaps she would simply manifest herself and see where that would take her.

2

Severus saw her for the first time as he patrolled the hallways on the night of the sorting feast.  It was one of the better nights for hall duty, since most of the students had exhausted themselves with overly-effusive greetings with their friends or made themselves sick on the food Dumbledore provided in too-generous portions.  Scowling over the prospect of yet another year of under-achieving potions students and overly-hormonal night prowlers, he spotted a figure leaning out of one of Hogwarts many balconies.

It was a ghost, but not one that Severus had ever seen.  The spirit was most definitely of the female persuasion.  She stood on her bare-footed tiptoes, gazing up at the clear Scottish sky.  A garment that could only be called a negligee hugged her delicate curves and brushed down to her slim ankles.  Long, gently curling hair flowed down to the small of her back.  Severus could not see her face since she stood with her back to him.

Curious as to the identity of this new phantom, Severus crept closer to the small figure.  Though he could sneak up on nearly every student he had ever encountered, his skills in stealth could not compare to supernatural senses, and the woman turned toward him before her got within four meters.

Severus felt his breath catch in his throat as he took in her ethereal beauty.  Wide eyes and smooth features greeted him.  She had delicately arching brows, high cheekbones, and a small, aristocratic nose.  Her jaw was delicate, but firm, and her lips full and soft.  For a moment Severus was worried that he had stumbles across a succubus, but her hair had obviously been blond while she had been alive, judging by its lightness, and succubi always had black hair.  Although, as a ghost, she lacked all color, the darkness of her eyes prompted Severus to assume that they had once been dark brown. 

She did not move as she gazed at him steadily, and Severus felt himself shift uncomfortably under the weight of those lovely eyes.  He took a few steps forward, but stopped when she seemed to shrink away from him.  

Clearing his voice, Severus broke the awkward silence.  "Hello.  I am Professor Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts.  Might I inquire if you are a new addition to the castle?"

She raised an eyebrow at his question, then slowly shook her head in the negative.  As Severus prepared to ask her why she wouldn't give her name, the lovely spirit slipped through the wall to his left and disappeared from sight.

Severus, intrigued by her presence and her beauty, had asked the headmaster if Hogwarts had received any new ghosts recently.  Albus had replied that there had been no new ghosts for at least fifty years, and inquired as to the reason for Severus' question.  After explaining the details his late night rendezvous, Albus had guessed that she might be one of the castle's more retiring spirits.  Even so, Albus was surprised that he had never seen or heard of any ghost matching her description.

Determined to find out the identity of his mystery ghost, Severus had employed the Bloody Baron, also unfamiliar with the woman, as an incorporeal investigator.  The Baron had questions ghosts and portraits for weeks, but nobody had heard of her.  Well, nobody but Peeves.  The little rat had claimed that she was Mrs. Peeves, whose talents tended to the more tawdry side of ghostly deeds, but neither Severus nor the Baron believed a word he said.  That bloody poltergeist was an absolute nuisence, and Severus wondered why Albus hadn't exorcized him years ago.

After more than a month had passed with no progress on identifying the lady ghost, Severus had been ready to chalk it up to an overactive imagination and one too many cruciatus curses.

3

It had been a very long day.  Slytherin and Gryffindor for double potions; it was like combining selkie blood and tirnin petals…always explosive.  Severus had spent most of the class observing Draco Malfoy.  The boy, well, rather like a young man, was up for entrance into the Dark Lord's service next month, on his eighteenth birthday.  Although he seemed like even more of an arrogant snot than before, Severus could see fear lurking in his eyes.  He was sure that others wouldn't notice it, but as a man used to hiding his own fear, Severus was observant enough to discern it.

The class had ended on a particularly low note.  Longbottom.  Need he say more?  He had grown from being a clumsy little oaf to being a clumsy large oaf, and it appeared as though Severus hadn't shoved one piece of potions knowledge into that thick head of his.  Longbottom's cauldron had blown up with a loud boom as shrapnel flew across the room, injuring several students.

Perhaps he should just give in and let Granger do his work for him.  He had done his best to discourage her interference over the years, since Longbottom would need to cope by himself once he left the relative safety of Hogwarts, but his will had been ground down after years of similar explosions and no headway in his education.  After seeing six students, and equal amount of bloody and seriously annoyed Gryffindors and Slytherins, to Poppy for medical attention, all Snape desired was a glass of Ogdens and his latest issue of PC, Potion Culture.

With a sigh he whispered his password, misanthrope, to the snake statue that hid the passageway to his personal quarters.  The marble scales suddenly glistened with life as Sarutin awoke.  The serpent blinked its eyes sleepily as what might have passed as a grin lit his gray features.  

"Good evening, SSSeveruss…long day?"

"Stuff it smart-ass," Severus replied tersely as he waited for the nosy serpent to move out of the way.

Sarutin's tongue flicked out in a teasing manner as his granite gaze shifted downward.  "Did sssomebody have an accccident?  How embarrassing."

Severus followed his gaze and noticed that some of Longbottoms failed potion had crusted on the crotch of his robes, forming a white splotch.  Sweet Merlin!  If he had noticed earlier he would have strangled the damn boy.  Growling at the impudent guardian, he hissed, "I would move if I were you, before I decide to blast some of those scales of your rotten hide."

The snake sighed as he uncoiled and shifted sideways, allowing Severus to gain entry to his chambers.  As he walked into his living room he heard Sarutin's parting jab.  "You might want to take care of that particular stain yourself.  We don't want to scare the poor house-elves, now, do we?"

Severus whirled around to issue a biting comment, but the stone figure had already resumed his place and lost animation.  One thing he despised about Hogwarts was its overly-quirky denizens.  Glancing down at his robes he decided to leave them on…a calming glass of whiskey was his first priority.

He drifted toward his study, snatching a bottle of Ogden's Best from his mantle and a glass from a side table.  As he settled into his favorite armchair he conjured some Bach with a lazy flick of his wand, then poured a generous portion of amber liquid into his glass.  He shut his eyes as he took his first sip and felt it burn down his throat and warm his belly.  Sighing as the tension began to drift out of his weary muscles, he turned to pick up his PC subscription.  

As his eyes focused on the settee that lined the opposite side of the room he froze.  The tension came and he carefully set the glass down, blinking his eyes to make sure he was not hallucinating.  

No…he hadn't gone crazy.  The peculiar image remained.  His ghost was lounging on the couch as a book floated before her eyes.  His volume of Moste Potente Potions, volume VI, he noticed in an odd flash of discernment.  He unfroze as a page turned on its own.

"What are you doing here?"  Severus demanded in a voice that sounded shaky and foreign to his ears.  Damn it man, he thought to himself, you face Voldemort on a regular basis without flinching.  A slip of a girl ghost should not concern him in the slightest.

His eyes widened as the little chit held up a slender finger to silence him.  Stunned by the action he abided by her wordless order as she finished reading the page.  The book shut of its own accord and floated down to rest on a nearby shelf as the spirit turned to look at him.

"Hello," she said quietly in a voice that sounded like it hadn't been used for centuries.  With a quirk of an eyebrow, Severus supposed that scenario wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.

"What are you doing in my book, touching my things?" he demanded rather harshly.  Having been thrown by her appearance, Severus needed to regain his balance, and there was nothing more Snapish than being irritable.

A glint of amusement lit her eyes and a small smile curved her lips as she replied cheekily, "I'm not touching your things, Severus.  I can't."

"You know what I meant, miss.  And how do you know my name?"

"I'm sorry if I've offended you, but I couldn't resist poking around while I waited for you.  You're lucky I didn't pick your underwear drawer.  Ghosts have very few limitations when it comes to snooping."

He growled at her as he stood to shove Moste Potente Potions back in its place in the bookcase.

Turning back to the woman a scowl settled on his angular features.  "Congratulations.  You know my names and you've violated my privacy.  Now, might you tell me how you know my name and why you were waiting for me?"  He pulled himself to his full, imposing height and glared down at her with a look that had brought first-years to instant tears.

"Don't try to intimidate me, Professor Snape.  I'm a long way from being an easily-frightened student.  You can't do anything to me."

"Oh, really?"  Severus asked with a sneer.  "We could always have you exorcized.  Ghosts are not completely immune to magic."

She gave a genuine smile in response to his threat.  "I would like to see you try.  You lack the power."  She gave a small sigh as his stance grew even more rigid.  "I didn't come here to fight with you."

"Well, then.  Care to enlighten me?"

"Yes, I suppose I should.  Will you please sit down?"  She made a graceful gesture toward the chair he had vacated.  After locking gazes with him for a long, tense pause, Severus lowered himself into his seat.

She gave him an appeasing smile as she appeared to gather her thoughts.  "It's a long story," she began, settling into the couch, "and it has come time for me to tell it."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Elena.  All credit goes to the lovely Ms. Rowling.

And on with the show…

4

Elena watched Severus as he sat stiffly in the chair in front of her.  His hostility at discovering her presence had been unpleasant, but expected.  Severus Snape was most definitely not a people person…or a ghost person, for that matter.

She had decided to approach Severus first.  The decision had been made on the basis of two factors.  One, he was the first, and only, person to spot her as she practiced shifting into a visible form.  Two, he was probably the staff member most likely to understand betrayal and disillusionment.  Severus had lived a truly screwed up life as a double agent; he knew pain, both corporeal and spiritual agony.

Describing her life to the perpetually twinkly-eyed Dumbledore would have been unbearable.  Not that Dumbledore was naïve; on the contrary, he could be quite the realist, especially in light of the war.  Elena was simply convinced that he would not understand her experiences.  

Thus, she had decided to approach Severus, despite the fact that he often made her uncomfortable.  What was a little discomfort when she was going to have to relive the most unbearable experiences of her thousand-year existence?

Almost a month after she had her run-in with the Potions Master, Elena had drifted into the dungeons to meet with him.  She knew the general region in which his quarters were located, but the exact location had never been a piece of knowledge she was particularly interested in.

Looking down the dark corridor that hid the entrance to his chambers, Elena decided to enlist the aid of the castle.  Walking up to a particularly ugly gargoyle that perched on a large, skull shaped boulder, she carefully sent out a tendril of power.  The creature moved slightly, the stone shifted and crackling as he awoke from his slumber.  

The creature, whose face was an awkward mixture of bear and wild boar, yawned, exposing an impressive rack of sharp teeth.  He shook his massive head, causing dust to drift from his craggy features.

Focusing upon her as he became aware of his surroundings, the gargoyle gave her smile that could have been either menacing or welcoming.  Elena, deciding on the latter interpretation, shot a smile back at him.

"Good, afternoon," she said politely.  She had learned, over the years, that Hogwarts' permanent residents could be quite touchy when it came to formalities.

"Good afternoon, yerself," he grumbled in an appropriately gravelly voice.  "Why did you wake me, lass?"

Adopting an expression of feminine helplessness, Elena replied, "I was wondering if you might be able to direct me to Professor Snape's quarters.  I'm afraid I'm lost."

He gave her an appraising look.  "Newly dead, are ye?"

Smirking slightly – she was most likely older than him – Elena nodded, hoping for pity.  These gargoyles could be exceedingly tight-mouthed when it came to handing out information.

"Dinna worry, love.  It'll get easier with time."  His eyes grew shrewd.  "Now why would a wee thing like you be looking for the Potions bastard?  Ye'd be better off with the company of the ghosts upstairs.  I canna say that the Bloody Baron is particularly good company, but Nearly-Headless Nick a gallant enough."

Digging for an excuse, Elena blurted, "I had him as my Potions professor.  He was just dreadful…he made me cry.  I wanted to give him a bit of a scare now that he can't take house points," she finished with a grin.

The gargoyle let out a bark of laughter.  "Now, there's a lass.  I hope you scare the robes off 'im."

Elena smiles, and replied, "I certainly hope not.  I don't want to die again."

With another laugh, the gargoyle pointed at a snake statue down the corridor.  "That's his guardian.  A rude beast by the name o' Sarutin.  I think the password is lycanthrope, or sometin' like that.  Then again, I guess you won't be needed a password, aye?"

"Aye," she agreed.  "Thank you very much for your help."

"I hope you scare the greasy bastard, right well.  Deserves it, 'e does.  Haven't seen a nastier piece o' work in a good long while."  When he finished wishing ill upon Professor Snape the gargoyle resumed his original position and froze into stone sleep.  Well, not quite his original position, Elena noted wryly.  He had a small smile lighting his ugly features now.

Heading toward the snake statue, Elena felt coldness descend on her.  With a shudder, Elena noted how close she was to Salazar's old passageway.  Dismissing the chill that spread down her spine she stopped before the guardian.  

It was a beautifully made monument, with each scale wrought in delicate detail.  It was also an amazingly obvious choice for the concealment of the chambers of the Head of Slytherin.  She had though Severus would be a little less obvious, but then shrugged.  Clichés were clichés for a reason.  Snakes and Slytherins went together like Chinese dasgas and fire pixies.

She simply passed through the stolid serpent and found herself in what must have been Severus' living room.  It was a surprisingly comfortable space.  She had imagined a reproduction of his classroom.  A few uncomfortable oak benches, a cauldron simmering in the corner, cold stone floors, and maybe a head floating in murky formaldehyde as a decorative centerpiece.

Instead, the floors were covered with old, but rich Persian carpets.  The furniture was a combination of rich green and deep maple, and looked very comfortable.  A lovely globe, eighteenth century, if Elena remembered correctly, decorated one corner, and moving paintings depicting various cities around the world graced his walls.  The Viennese and Florentine views were particularly appealing, in her opinion.

With a smile, Elena noted that a cauldron was indeed simmering in another corner.  At least she had been right about something.  Walking closer to see what the Poitions Master was brewing, Elena caught sight of a tapestry that decorated the wall that contained the door through which she had entered.

If she had held any color, Elena was sure it would have drained from her face.  On the wall, Salazar Slytherin stood in all his beautiful, horrible glory.  A surprisingly lifelike rendering, she noted with peculiar detatchment.  Long black hair tied back in a queue, angular, almost delicate features, sensuous lips, and those leaf-green eyes that seemed to glitter with ambition and power.  

He looked like an angel.  She supposed that he had always been an angel in her eyes.  First, he had been the angel Gabriel, rescuing her from the dullness of her existence.  Then he transformed into Lucifer; still almost unearthly in his beauty, but with an aura of cruel power lingering about him.

She barely resisted the impulse to reach out with her powers to snatch the offensive tapestry from the wall and toss it into the small fire that smoldered in Severus' fireplace.  Unable to remain in the presence of that disturbing image, Elena wandered over to a door that was slightly ajar.

Floating through the barrier Elena found herself in what must have been Severus' study.  It was lined with hundreds of potions texts and scrolls.  A leather sofa and armchair, both well-used, filled up the space that wasn't occupied by books.  Grinning at the opportunity to explore Severus' collection, Elena began perusing the titles.  

She still loved potions, despite the many painful connotations it carried for her, and delighted in the advances that the art had made over time.  She had avidly tracked the breakthroughs made by the masters of each successive age.  Elena had been delighted when she had found that Severus would join the faculty, some eighteen years ago.  He was well-established in the field, and destined for great things.

Although Elena's personal discomfort with the Potions Master had kept her from witnessing many of his experiments, Elena had enjoyed his accomplishments.  The Wolfsbane Potion had been an exceptionally delightful invention that had kept Elena grinning for a week.  Absolutely brilliant.

Noticing a copy of Moste Potente Potions, IV, Elena let out a small cry of delight and levitated it off the shelf.  She had been aware that a new volume had been released, but the prudish Pince had yet to order a copy for the main library.  Settling onto the couch, or, to be more accurate, floating millimeters above the couch's surface, Elena opened the book and began scanning the new entries.

5

Faced with a very pissed Potions Master, Elena had second thoughts about bearing her rather ancient and bruised soul.  She didn't expect hugs and cookies to have greeted her appearance, but she had a difficult story to tell and she wanted at least a pinch of compassion.  Deciding that the hasty appearance in the study of a compassionate Snape was about as likely as the arrival of a dancing Jobjuh beast, Elena gathered her strength and settled back onto the couch.

"It's a long story," she began, "and it has come time for me to tell it."  Severus quirked an eyebrow, as if to say, 'let's hurry this along, shall we?'  Shooting him a dirty glance she continued.  

"My name is Elena Morreton.  I was a member of Hogwarts' first entering class, nearly one-thousand years ago.  There were only twenty-seven students total, that year, and no houses had been established, yet.  We were the guinea pigs, as muggles would say, and the founders were still testing their system.  The founders were also the only professors at the school."

"Rowena Ravenclaw taught transfiguration and ruins.  Godric Gryffindor was professor of charms and magical creatures, and Helga Hufflepuff taught healing arts and earth magic.  Salazar Sytherin taught potions and the dark arts…there was no such thing as defense in my time."

"I was a good student, perhaps the best."  At Severus' smirk, she snapped, "I'm not being arrogant, Professor.  Having a few hundred years to reflect on the past tends to provide perspective and detachment.  Now, can I continue?"

"Of course," he replied, with apparent disinterest, but Elena could tell that he was already fascinated by her story.  One didn't get a direct line to the era of the founders very often.

"As I was saying, I was a good student.  I excelled in every subject, with the minor exception of magical creature, but my deepest interest lay in your own field…potions."  

Deviating slightly from her tale, Elena couldn't help injecting, "Your quite talented, by the way, and I have seen a great deal of potions masters come and go."  If Elena wasn't mistaken, she actually saw color rise in his sallow skin.  Who would have thought?  She had just embarrassed Severus Snape.  

Smiling to herself, Elena continued.  "I was already studying advanced potions in my sixth year when Professor Slytherin approached me with an offer to serve as his apprentice.  I was flattered by his proposal.  He was a harsh and demanding taskmaster, and any sign of approval was a rare and precious gift.  I imagine your students view you in much the same way, Severus."

"I was also quite enamored of my Potions Master.  He was a handsome and deeply compelling man, and wore his power around himself like a mantle.  I accepted his offer with naïve enthusiasm.  Over the next year I fell painfully in love with him."

She paused, thinking back to what had been the happiest time of her life.  Salazar had shown her magic that she hadn't even imagined, and opened her eyes to a world of wonder and enchantment.  He had also introduced her to the delights of sex.  Salazar had been as talented a lover as he was a potions master, enthralling her body and heart.  Her reminiscences were interrupted by Severus.

"Ah…unrequited young love.  I adore these stories," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She raised a delicate brow in quiet censure.  "Quite the contrary, Severus.  Slazar returned my affections with enthusiasm."

**************

More coming soon…

Please review.  The author is a fragile, first-time fanfiction writer, and she needs your support.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:  Nothing is mine…except Elena and the plot.  The rest is all J.K.'s.

Enjoy, my three, lone reviewers.

6

Severus wondered if she expected him to react to her statement.  Well, if so, she was going to be sorely disappointed.  

Of course, the husky way she said 'enthusiasm' had shivered down his spine and wrapped itself around his manhood, but he hadn't so much as batted an eye.  Years of emotional schooling coming in handy once again.

He hadn't doubted that her professor 'returned her affections.'  Now that he was able to study her up close, he found that he had actually underestimated her loveliness.  

His ghost, Elena Morreton, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…so, of course, she had to be dead.  It just figured, he thought darkly, his rotten luck was still going strong.

Looking at her, he decided that he did not doubt her relationship with her teacher.  But that was about the only part of her story that he accepted as true.  

Member of Hogwart's first class?  Salazar Slytherin's girlfriend?  She was as batty as Peeves.  A beautiful, completely crazy ghost.  She'd fit right in at Hogwarts.

"Well," he heard her ask from across the room, "shall I continue?  Or would you prefer to continue staring?"

Severus gave her a mean smile, one that showed too many teeth to possibly be considered friendly.  Just because she was pretty didn't mean she deserved to be treated politely.  The girl had broken into his quarters, rifled through his belongings, and was telling lies like a Malfoy.

"By all means, _Miss Morreton_, do continue your fascinating tale.  Perhaps you form ménage-a-trios with Merlin and Lord Slytherin next.  Oh, and invent Quidditch.  That would round the fairytale out quite nicely."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment Severus was relieved that she was incorporeal.  Elena looked like she wanted to scratch his eyes out.  "If you'd shut that snide mouth of yours, you might learn something, boy."

Severus' eyes bulged with incredulity at that last appellation.  "Boy," he whispered dangerously.  "Did you just refer to me as 'boy'?!"

"Yes.  You're what…almost forty years old?  Compared to me that's practically a fetus.  In addition to that, you are acting like a little boy.  If you would just shut up and listen to me, I could help you and your side in ways you can't fathom."

Severus immediately became wary.  "My side?  What do mean?"

7

Elena watched as he closed up like a snaggle-tooth lily, his features slamming shut and waves of defensiveness radiating off of him.

She sighed.  She hadn't meant to bring up his guard like that, but he had pissed her off.  He had no idea how difficult it was to share these, her most personal and painful experiences, with a stranger.  

Not just any stranger, either, but a mean, dungeon-dwelling bastard who possessed a tongue sharp enough to draw blood.

Talking an unneeded breath, Elena calmed herself.  "Yes, your side."

He was completely rigid as he sat there.  He could have passed for the gargoyle in his corridor…totally still with an ugly grimace distorting his features.  "And what _side_ might that be, Miss Morreton?"

Ah, he suspected she worked for Voldemort.  Well, dammit, now he was never going to listen to her.  "The Order of the Phoenix," she stated bluntly.  He showed no reaction.  Well, she had known that convincing him wouldn't be easy.

"The order of the what?" he asked.

"Severus, I know that you're a double agent, working for Voldemort but loyal to Dumbledore.  I knew what you were doing before he had his first run in with Harry Potter.  I know almost everything that happens within these walls, and a great deal that occurs beyond them."

"Oh, really."

"Really."

There was a long silence before Severus stirred himself to address her again.  "How do I know you aren't working for Voldemort?  Have you come to test my loyalty?  To get me to confide in you?"

"By telling you stories you think are utter skrewt-crap?  Yes, that's my brilliant plan.  Telling you crazy stories, then, just when you're on the verge of never believing me, scaring you away by getting mad and showing my agenda," Elena shot back, annoyed both with herself and Severus.

She couldn't be sure, but it looked like his lip may have quirked up in amusement at that diatribe. 

 Calming herself, she continued, "I'm not working for that over-glorified half-blood.  I watched him grow into the thing that he is today.  I seen the havoc that evil wizards have wrought before."  

"I watched Saruman scorch his way across the Middle East during the Crusades.  I saw the terror that was Midragolia and her legion of vampires.  I saw Grindewald's rampage, the bodies he left in ditches as the muggles fought their Great War.  I'm afraid, though, that Morgan LaFay is a little before my time."  She added the last with a conciliatory smile.

"I fear that Voldemort may be worse than them.  Of course, it would be a close race.  They were all ambitious, powerful, sadistic, and, of course, absolutely insane.  But, I was never pulled to help the living before.  These last years…"  Elena words drifted off as she searched to explain how she felt.

Finally, she began again.  "This is something that I must do.  I cannot explain why.  I don't understand it myself.  This need inside me has grown until it feels like it will rip me apart."

Her eyes lost their frightening intensity as she continued, "So I decided to make myself known to the living for the first time in a millennium."

With a soft smile, she confided, "Believe me, it was not easy to do.  I haven't been visible for Merlin only knows how long.  I thought I might have forgotten how to manifest."

He was still looking at Elena with skepticism, but she thought that he seemed slightly more relaxed.  She was absolutely sure she had made headway.  

Until he spoke.

"I don't believe a bloody word you said.  Get out of my chambers before I flue Ghost Corp. and hire a coven to _exorcize_ you."  His eyes were steely as he issued his threat.

Elena was stunned for a moment, but fury trickled in and replaced that emotion within seconds.  "You utter bastard.  You'll choke on your words when Voldemort slaughters Dumbledore and turns your sorry ass over to Dementors.  I wouldn't help you now if my unlife depended on it!"

As she shouted at Severus the temperature in the room dropped drastically and a small breeze appeared.  It soon grew to a mini-whirlwind, sweeping books from his shelves and plucking up scrolls, tossing them about the room.  Severus registered surprise as he quickly stood up trying to grab some of his papers as they flew past his face.

As suddenly as the chaos began, it ended.  Books and scrolls, quills and ink pots lay scattered across the floor.  

When Severus glanced up from the mess on his rug Elena stood only inches away from him.  She had floated off the ground, so that they now stood eye to eye.  Completely undisturbed by the storm she had conjured, her gaze bore into him.  "You will regret this, Severus Snape," she whispered, and her voice was like death.

Gliding from the room, she passed through the door and out of his sight.  As she drifted away the temperature began to rise.  

Despite the return of warmth Severus continued to shiver.  

**********

Thank you to those of you who reviewed.  The few, the proud…

Don't worry.  Severus and Elena aren't done with each other yet.

I'll post another chapter soon


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot…all credit goes to Ms. Rowling.

Thank you for the wonderful reviews.  They keep me writing chapters.

7

Severus remained staring at the door for a full minute.  That had been spooky.  For a man who met on a fairly regular basis with Voldemort and his sadistic cronies, Severus was not often driven to define something as spooky…but nothing could better describe the recent performance of the lovely Elena.

Tearing his gaze away from her point of exit, Severus surveyed the mess she had made of his perfectly ordered room.  Quills, books, and scrolls were scattered around the room.  

His perfect organizational system was shot to Hades.

He did not look forward to putting everything back in its place.  As his eyes roved over the chaos an unholy grin lit his ascetic features.  He would let somebody else do the wretched job.  

Most students were as dim-witted as mountain trolls, but he had a handful of students that could perform a filing job with adequate precision.  Having decided to pass the buck to some poor scholar, Severus waved his wand, muttering "Purgo."  The ink that had splashed the floors and walls vanished.  There was no point in allowing the stain to set.

Now that he had taken care of the more mundane matters that had been brought up by Elena's impromptu tempest, Severus reluctantly turned his mind to other possible effects of her visit.

He hadn't meant to infuriate her.  Severus had only wanted to scare her into becoming more forthright.

Her passionate speech against the evils of…well, evil, had appealed to Severus.  He had been fighting darkness, both his own and that of the Death Eaters, for most of his hollow life.

But he was too battle-hardened to trust a person just because their words were tempting.  If he did, he would have died a long time ago.

Elena's revelations concerning his career as a spy had torn through him.  His existence depended upon his privacy, and having a ghost to whom he had been speaking for only a handful of minutes blurt out his most private, dangerous secrets had shaken him to the core.

In all honesty, he did not believe that she was working for Voldemort or any of his subordinates.  If the Dark Lord had heard even a whisper of the phrase 'Order of the Phoenix' in connection with Severus' name, he would already have been vaporized.

Voldemort, a genius tactician when it came to facing his enemies, handled betrayal from his inner circle with a great deal less finesse.  

Rather than dupe a known traitor into revealing information and divulging the identities of his associates, Voldemort was far more likely to eviscerate the traitor while laughing and taunting the dying wizard.

Although Severus believed that she wasn't working for Voldemort, he did not believe that she was in any way connected to the founders.  Too many things suggested she was lying.

The biggest fact that worked against her tale was the simple detail that ghosts did not linger that long.  

Witches and wizards who had died unnatural deaths or left their lives unfulfilled would sometimes remain trapped on the earthly plain, doomed to wander this realm until they achieved peace with their lives and deaths.

Traditionally, this process took between one and six hundred years.  The Bloody Baron was the oldest ghost that resided at Hogwarts.  Almost five hundred ninety years had passed since his death.  

The length of his haunt was understandable.  The Baron, close-mouthed when it came to most of the living, had struck up an odd friendship with Severus a few years after he had arrived at Hogwarts.  

Through their conversations, most of which took place in front of his hearth, Severus had discovered that the Baron and he had a great deal in common.  

Both were the only sons of wealthy, old-blood wizarding families, which had created a great deal of pressure to wed and produce an heir for both men.

Severus had lightened the pressure by simply severing relations with his interfering mother, Helena, shortly after her second marriage.  

After his father, Vespasian, had died in a duel, Helena had begun an affair with a French wizard, Marcellin Garnier, a wizarding merchant who dealt primarily in dark objects.

Severus had disliked his father, but he absolutely loathed his stepfather.  Deciding that continuing a relationship with Helena, a beautiful, but cold woman who had nothing remotely resembling love for her son, was not worth putting up with the irritating frog-eater, Severus had ceased communicating with the woman who gave him life.

Unlike Severus, the Baron, whose first name had never been divulged during their numerous discussions, had lived up to the expectations of his family…as was to be expected in his era.

The Baron, a fellow potions master, had decided to take a wife when he reached his fortieth birthday.  

As he made rounds in London's wizard marriage market, home to upper class, unwed women of pure blood, the Baron had met a lovely young woman who made the prospect of marriage more than palatable.

Marianna Dovetree, an 'ebony-haired goddess,' as the Baron had once bitterly described her, became the object of his ardent affections.  

She was intelligent, possessed a lovely alto singing voice, and enjoyed potions making.  The Baron had thought her to be the perfect bride, and he quickly arranged an engagement with her guardian, Marianna's cousin, Marcus Dovetree.

What he did not know, was that Marcus and the entire Dovetree clan were in dire financial straits.  The Baron's generous bride price was a welcome source of income for the family, but the Dovetrees, especially Marcus, wanted more.

It had also turned out that Marianna and Marcus had been lovers since the girl was thirteen.  Although marriage between cousins was frowned upon in that time, it was not illegal, and the two Dovetrees could have wed…if not for their greed.  

The Baron was unknowingly pulled into this circle of avarice and incest, which would have dire consequences for the potions master from the age of the Plantagenets.

Marianna and Marcus plotted to eliminate the Baron and claim his wealth and holdings after their inheritance was ensured by the birth of a son.  For the Baron and Marianna, a male child came quickly to their marriage, a lucky act of providence for the scheming cousins.

The birth of Charles was greeted with joy by both parents, for drastically different reasons.  The Baron had been delighted by the birth of his son, utterly infatuated with the perfect human being he believed was a manifestation of he and Marianna's love for one another.  

Marianna was overjoyed to be freed from a loveless marriage.

Almost two months after Charles' birth, the Baron was invited to a romantic dinner for two in his wife's chambers.  Thinking that this meeting would mark a renewal of their enjoyment of the marriage-bed, the Baron had come with eagerness.  

After finishing a delicious first course of vichyssoise, the Baron found himself paralyzed by an undetected poison that it had contained…a poison that he had most likely brewed.

He watched, in frozen horror as Marcus entered the bedroom, explaining he and Marianna's relationship and plans.  

The Baron been forced to observe Marianna make love to her cousin with an enthusiasm that she had never been able to feign for her husband.

Marcus had then stabbed him repeatedly with the rapier that had been passed down by the male heirs of the Baron's family for over two centuries.  The betrayal that the Bloody Baron had experienced was so horrific that he had yet to achieve harmony.

Although the Bloody Baron's haunt was exceptionally long, others had resided in the realm of the living for longer.  

The most extensive stay in recorded history, if Severus recalled correctly, was experienced by a Japanese wizard named Hino Ikari.  A nasty piece of work while he had been alive, the wizard had haunted the emperor's court for seven hundred fifty years after his death at the hands of his three sons.

It could be possible that Elena had been a ghost for somewhere around six hundred years, though it was highly unlikely.  But one thousand years…absolutely impossible.  

Also, the older the ghost, the more strange the individual.  Although Elena's sense of humor seemed a bit skewed and she was far too irreverent, she wasn't crazy, a characteristic that marked older spirits.  
  


Still, Severus couldn't dismiss her claims out of hand.  He would research Hogwarts' enrollment books, and see if indeed Elena Morreton had been a member of Hogwarts' first class.

***********

Thank you for all the kind reviews.  They provide great motivation.

Also, when I wrote 'frog-eater' in reference to Snape's stepfather, I in no way meant to disparage people of French extraction.  I was merely portraying Snape's snarkiness.

See what Elena does about Snape's not-so-great reaction in the next chapter.

Also, I've corrected my death age problem, so it sticks to canon now.  Thanks for the constructive criticism, Myranya and Tangwystl Quidditch.

Until then.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own none of this.  I bow to the fantastic imagination of J.K. Rowling and her glorious Potterverse.

8

Elena was furious with Severus as she stalked down the murky corridor that led out of the dungeons.  How dare he treat her with such contempt?  Even if she hadn't been telling the truth about her origins, as he erroneously suspected, she was still a human being -- or, at least, she had been a human being at one point -- and she deserved respect.

Too angry to be fully aware of her actions, Elena walked through a trio of startled-looking students.  As they gasped in surprise Elena realized that she was still visible.  She whirled around in annoyance and snapped out, "What?  Do you have a problem, children?"

The tall red-head gulped nervously, "No.  No problem here."

Elena wondered why they looked so worried.  As Hogwarts students, they should be accustomed to run-ins with assorted spirits.  

As she watched their hair and robes being tossed about, she abruptly noticed that she was still raising a brisk breeze due to her emotional turmoil.  With this realization, the wind immediately ceased.

As the weather show came to an end, the bushy-haired girl stepped forward with a placating smile.  "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger.  She gestured to her companions, "these are my friends, Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter.  We're all seventh-year Gryffindors.  You must be new here."    

Elena felt her annoyance spike.  It was one thing to be badgered by a cranky old bastard; it was another to be condescended to by a seventeen-year-old girl.  "Must I, Hermione Granger and company?"

The girl showed a measure of uncertainty for the first time in their encounter.  "Well, I just assumed, since we have never seen you before and most of the ghosts like interacting with the students.  And in _Hogwarts: A History_, no ghost of your description is listed under current ghostly inhabitants."

"You know," said Elena in a contemplative tone, "the old _H & H_ isn't always correct.  Like all books, it's only as reliable as its authors, and shouldn't always be believed." 

The girl looked a little surprised and more than a little curious at Elena's response.  "So you've been here for quite some time.  I suppose that makes sense.  Only older spirits are capable of manipulating their environment, performing tasks like raising winds or telekinetically moving objects.  In fact, if I had to guess…"  

A sharp elbow to the ribs, originating from the black-haired Harry Potter, abruptly ended her discourse.

The boy cleared his throat.  "Sorry for the misunderstanding, Miss.  It's a pleasure to meet you.  Umm…I guess we'll be on our way now."  It looked as though Hermione was going to argue against their departure, but she was prevented from doing so as her male companions proceeded to drag her away.   

Elena's ire drained away as she watched the young students walk down the hall.  They were no doubt up to something untoward, since it was well past curfew.  

Elena hoped that it was just childhood mischief, but in her heart she knew that it was most likely some far-too-adult task related to the war and its dangers.

Although Hermione's rather bossy interrogation had bothered her, it was no surprise that the girl acted with the confidence of an authoritative adult.  She had been forced to grow up too soon.  As a friend of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Probably Wouldn't Survive the Year, she and young Weasley were prime targets for the Death Eaters.

The lives of those three, as well as the rest of the students at Hogwarts, were in danger…in danger of being stolen from them by death or the living death of toiling as a Death Eater under the painful yoke of Lord Voldemort.

Her little encounter with the famous Gryffindor trio reminded Elena that her choice to help or abandon the wizarding world could not ethically depend solely upon her interaction with one of its most prickly members.

Still, now she was at a loss as to how she should proceed.  Elena was definitely not prepared to deal with Severus anytime soon, and she didn't particularly feel like making overtures to another Hogwarts professor.  

Sighing as she faded into invisibility, Elena decided to wait and see if anything developed from her meeting with Severus.  Perhaps he would wish to speak with her again…and perhaps he would suddenly develop the sunny personality of a perpetual optimist.

Whatever.  For now, this was out if her hands.  If nothing happened within the next month, then she would seek another avenue through which she could provide aid.  As a being accustomed to the gradual passage of time over centuries, waiting a few weeks seemed like not waiting at all.

9

Severus sat in the library after hours.  It had been two weeks since his meeting with the ghostly Elena Morreton, and evidence of his fruitless research sprawled out before him.

He had searched through the Hogwarts class lists for any mention of an Elena Morreton, beginning with the era of the Founders, and found nothing.  

Assuming that Morreton could possibly be her married name, his search for Elenas had produced twelve names.  None of them matched Ms. Morreton in physical description, except one Elena Harold, who joined Hogwarts in 1918, and was still alive and well in Wales, babysitting for her numerous great-grandchildren.

He also checked the records of Hogwarts staff members and guests, but this also produced nothing.

Sighing, he slammed yet another Hogwarts yearbook closed.  It appeared as though Elena Morreton had never set a living foot within the walls of the school, but Severus knew this was highly unlikely, since ghosts only haunt areas to which they are closely connected.

The Bloody Baron had taught potions at Hogwarts.  Nearly-Headless Nick had served as Headmaster for a record-breaking short term of two weeks before his nearly-decapitating fatal accident had occurred.

Elena Morreton would not be here if she had neither lived nor died within the bounds of Hogwarts.  Rubbing his weary eyes in frustration, Severus decided that it was time to bring this to the Headmaster.  

Albus was under an almost unbearable amount of stress these days, trying to protect his beloved students from Death Eaters and his own position as head of the school from Ministry idiots.

Although he was hesitant to admit it, Severus had another reason to keep his meeting with Elena secret.  He was, despite annoyance at her attitude and her many prevarications, fascinated by the beautiful and mysterious spirit woman.

Severus stood, stretching the kinks from his stiff muscles and joints, and began his walk toward the Headmaster's chambers.  As he passed the familiar portraits and suits of armor, Severus reflected on the different circumstances that had brought him to Albus in search of aid and guidance.

The first time, he had been suicidal and filled with regret and self-hate, emotions that had become his faithful companions over the years.  Since then, he had arrived with eagerness, ready to prove his loyalty with suffering and pain, and abject weariness, wretchedly tired of this seemingly useless fight with the dark.

His reluctance to see the Headmaster now rested in Albus' extraordinary ability to read the thoughts and emotions of those around him.  Severus was convinced that the old wizard was at least a partial empath, and now he feared that Albus would detect his obsession with the lovely phantom.

Finding himself before the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to his superior's office, Severus muttered, "ring pop," and the statue rotated out of the way to reveal steep stairs.  As he ascended, Severus ruminated that Albus' pearly white teeth were at complete odds with his disgusting proclivity for muggle candy.

Entering Albus' study Severus inclined his head toward Fawkes in response to the regal bird's nod of recognition.

As he settled into a comfortable wingchair, he heard Albus' greeting from the door that led to his private chambers.  "Hello, Severus.  What brings you here at this hour?  You need your sleep.  Poppy tells me that you still haven't recovered from last week's visit to Voldemort."

Severus nodded tersely.  This was an ongoing argument between himself and the rest of the Hogwarts staff.  He had long ago accepted the fact that his life, his health, was forfeit.  His fellow professors had yet to come to this inevitable conclusion.

"I have come to you for advice, Headmaster," Severus began as Albus lowered himself into a chair.  "I had an unexpected visitor about two weeks ago, and I find myself in need of guidance."

"Very well, Severus, but let me ring for some tea first.  You look too thin."  After Albus summoned a house elf and requested some refreshment, Severus related the events of a fortnight ago, and the research he had performed since then.  When he concluded his tale, Albus sat in silence for a few minutes, pulling on his long beard as he considered what path should be taken. 

After a long period of consideration, Albus lifted his head and met Severus' gaze.  "This is indeed a mystery, Severus.  Even if she never met the founders, there should still be some record of her presence at Hogwarts.  Yet she never was a student or staff member, nor is she listed on the visitors' lists.  Fascinating…"

"I believe that you must find a way to contact her and inquire as to the rest of her story.  At this point, help from any source must not be dismissed.  We cannot afford to turn away possible aid."  He chuckled a bit as he continued; "I do believe your first meeting was cut prematurely short by a clash of personalities."  

His expression turned more serious.  "Severus, my boy, you must learn to control your temper.  One day it could result in a great deal more than a messy room and an unnecessary detention for Ms. Granger."

Severus nodded in agreement at this last statement, but protested the first.  "I do not believe that it would be wise for me to contact Ms. Morreton, as we have already had an argument at our first encounter.  Perhaps you or Minerva should approach her."

Albus shook his head in disagreement.  "This woman chose to contact you, Severus.  Not me and not Minerva.  I'm sure that Elena Morreton had her reasons for establishing a connection with you, and I believe that we should foster this relationship, such as it is."

Severus sighed as he reluctantly accepted Albus' reasoning.  This was the advice that he both dreaded and desired.  Dealing with Elena Morreton was going to be frustrating and time consuming, even if it did end up being of use to the light side.  

But it would also mean that the maddeningly lovely ghost would be his responsibility alone, a reality that satisfied the possessiveness that he already felt for her.

***************

There you go.  Next chapter should have more interaction between Sev and Elena, as well as a bit more about her past.

Please review.  I'll post the next chapter when I have a grand total of 20.  That's just eight more…is it too much to ask?


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: You like Harry Potter?  So do I, but he's not mine.  He and his fellow Hogwartians all belong to the great J.K.  Only Elena and the plot are mine.

Also, sorry for the delay.  I became dispirited when my review total fell short of my goal, then I had a wicked case of writer's block.  Could they be related?  Hhmmm…

10

So how, Severus pondered, did one contact a supernatural spirit that, as far as he knew, was still royally pissed at him?  He had been mulling over this problem for the better part of a week, and he still had no clue.

He couldn't exactly ask Albus to make an announcement at one of the school meals and his choices seemed severely limited since Elena had disappeared following her dramatic mini-tornado in his study almost three weeks previous.

For lack of any better ideas, Severus had placed a note addressed to the ghost in question upon the end table that sat in the middle of his living room.  This was one of two places that Severus was aware she had visited in the recent past.  

If she wandered back to his quarters, either to contact him again or, more likely, to rifle through his personal belongings in an act of petty revenge, Elena would know that Severus wanted to speak with her.

Severus had also made sure to visit the sight of their first encounter, the balcony on the third floor on Hogwarts' western wall, several times each night.  His rounds usually took him past this spot, due to its proximity to the troublesome Gryffindors' den, so he simply increased his nightly appearances at this sight.

Still, after nearly a week of fruitless waiting, his patience, already in limited supply, was seriously strained.  His carefully worded note was gathering dust and he was sick of facing that empty balcony.

He had also, during his week of waiting, been forced to endure a Death Eater meeting.  It had been another nauseating affair, from which he still retained a large collection of bruises and scrapes that were slowly healing.  Poppy had fixed the shattered bones of his left hand, but, as always, he had refused her aid for minor injuries.

For Severus, the aches and pains were a necessary reminder of what he had done and what he must do for absolution.

Staring angrily at the untouched piece of parchment addressed to the inaccessible ghost, Severus sighed and poured himself a glass of Bartholde's Best, a brandy of goblin origin that was really too expensive to waste on an evening of drunken guzzling…but, since it was down to just this and a six-pack of practically nonalcoholic butterbeer that Minerva had given him, Severus was going for Bartholde's. 

About four generous helpings of brandy later, Severus sat glaring into the flames of his fireplace.  If the damned ghost was so eager to help then she should just get over their first encounter.  Severus conveniently forgot that he had threatened to have her exorcized and focused on how annoying it was to search for an unreachable spirit.

"I mean, really," he muttered, "you would think that a 'one-thousand' year-old ghost would be a little more mature and have thicker skin.  What an absolute, childish, irritating little bit…"

"Hello Severus," a quiet voice hissed from directly behind him.  "I thought you might be talking about me…my ears were burning."

As Severus swung around to face his ghostly intruder his brandy sloshed down the front of his robes.  Muttering swear words in several languages, he reached for his wand, and with a clumsy swish cleaned his robes with a simple spell.

He looked up to see Elena's face lit with unholy amusement.  "You seem to have trouble with the front of your robes, Professor.  I didn't want to call attention to it on my first visit, but I recall that you had a rather interesting stain then, as well."

Severus stared at her in confusion for a few seconds before a violent blush stole up his pale cheeks.  "Damn that idiotic Longbottom."  At his hissed statement, Elena adopted a shocked expression.

"Don't tell me it was a student that caused that stain?  I'm shocked that Albus Dumbledore would allow such a relationship to occur at Hogwarts while the school is under his protection."

"Oh shut up, you meddlesome banshee.  It was a potions accident." 

 Severus knew that his face was still red.  He could practically feel himself radiating heat.  He only hoped that his visitor would assume that the blush was due to his consumption of alcohol and not his embarrassment at her crude allusions.

As he glared at his visitor, Severus suddenly became aware that what he had been working toward for a week had finally occurred.  Remembering his mission Severus stood with dignity only slightly hampered by a small stumble.  

"Please have a seat, Miss Morreton.  I will be back shortly."  He let out a sigh of relief when she acquiesced to his request and slowly sat down on the armchair facing his own, or rather, she hovered slightly above it.

Severus made his way carefully to his private lab and pulled a vial from his store of potions.  Downing an absolutely foul sober-up potion of his own invention, he waited for a few seconds as it took effect, then glided into his sitting room, with his characteristic grace having been restored.

11

As Elena looked at the now-sober potions master as he settled into the leather armchair, she once again doubted the wisdom of contacting him for a second time.  She was committed to providing her help, but this man was insufferable on his good days.  His acerbic words from their last meeting rang in her mind.  Dismissing these concerns, Elena gathered herself.

Unable to hold back, she couldn't help baiting him.  "I noticed that you have been frequenting my haunts recently.  Were you looking for someone?  This Longbottom you mentioned, perhaps?"  His expression grew dark.

"You know damn well who I was looking for.  How long did you know I had been trying to contact you?"

Elena answered honestly, "Since you put out that oh-so-friendly parchment addressed to me."  His expression became even darker, and in response Elena's lips curved up slightly.

"Miss Morreton, since we have both committed ourselves to saving the wizarding world, perhaps you could leave the taunting at the door."  

Elena nodded conciliatorily, "Of course."  Snape bowed his head and appeared smug, basking in what he no doubt saw as his magnanimity.  "If you do the same," Elena added after a pause.  His superior expression fell as he glared at her.  He finally let out a terse "Fine."

Having apparently gotten the polite chitchat out of the way, Elena decided to address the issue that had brought them together.

"I believe I have a story to finish, Professor.  Would you like me to pick up where we left off?"  He made a slight gesture which Elena took as the Snape version of encouragement.

"I believe that I had just mentioned my apprenticeship and relationship with Salazar, am I correct?"  Severus nodded his agreement.

"Very well.  My seventh year was totally devoted to my work with Salazar, both in the lab and in more personal areas.  We would toil over cauldrons and books all day, and retire to his private chambers at night.  On the weekends, we would often visit his country estate, Fel Abbey.  The name is from the Latin for venom, but the home and surrounding lands were beautiful.  

"After our relationship became intimate, which occurred only weeks after the commencement of the fall term, Salazar gave me a suite of rooms which were directly connected to his own.  I later learned that they were designated for the mistress of the house.

"I came from a wealthy family, but the Slytherin estate was something more.  Everything was amazing.  Magic seemed to saturate the mansion and the lands, bolstering the innate magic I possessed and intensifying our relationship."

Elena paused for a moment, contemplating her life with Salazar, before continuing.  "We seemed very compatible.  Salazar had a wonderful sense of humor, although it slid towards the sarcastic and irreverent, and he made me happy.  I was young and so eager; I gave him all of myself, my body, my mind, and my heart.  And he loved me back, in his own way.  He was possessive and protective, and I saw these things as signs of his devotion.

"As the year passed, all too quickly in my opinion, we made progress in the lab.  Our thought processes were also highly compatible, and produced many discoveries."  As she broached the subject of potions, Elena saw a glint of interest in Severus' eyes.  She decided to elaborate on the subject, since it was less painful than personal revelations and more likely to gain his trust and loyalty.

"Our first major project was the Polyjuice potion.  It took us ages to find that boomslang skin's poisonous properties could be nullified by lacewings, which also enhances its transformative abilities.   Actually that was my idea.  Salazar was so proud of me that day."  

She also remembered that she had seen worry in his emerald eyes.  A spark of fear in response to her independent thinking.  She should have given more credence to that fear, but she had been too thrilled by her discovery and too blinded by love.  Laughing off her reminiscence, she looked over at Severus, "There were plenty of singed robes and melted cauldrons in between."

At this, Severus scoffed.  "You invented the Polyjuice potion?  One of the most complex and useful potions in creation?"

"And not to mention, one of the worst tasting," Elena added with a cheeky grin.  "And no, it was not solely mine.  I only determined the final, necessary ingredient.  If you could hold off on your skeptical comments, then you might learn something."  She looked at him silently until he gestured for her to continue.

"We also created the Occaeco potion, which produced invisibility for about three hours.  The time varied by body weight."

Severus looked startled.  "There is no such thing as an invisibility potion, only an invisibility cloak."

"Well, now there isn't, because the Occaeco has been lost, but we brewed it and used it on many occasions, so don't tell me that it doesn't exist."

Severus leaned forward, eager to learn the details of the concoction.  "What was the main ingredient, the catalyst for the invisibility?"

"Have you ever heard of the Commutatus Pegasus?"

"Vaguely…a flying horse native to Persia, I believe.  It could disguise itself as an ordinary horse by retracting its wings."

Elena smiled, "Sort of.  It was a flying horse of Persian heritage.  Small for a pegasus, and fine-boned.  You are right in saying that they could appear as ordinary horses, but rather than retract their wings, they make them invisible.  Within several glands in their wings, Commutati produce an oily liquid which is released and absorbed by their feathers, rendering their wings invisible."  

"Unfortunately, we required the actual glands to complete the potion, and harvesting them from the horses often produced their deaths.  The animals were already depleted by years of hunting and collecting, and our potion merely created another threat to their existence.  I'm fairly sure the creatures are extinct now, hence no invisibility potion.  Salazar and I did search for a less costly, more common substitute, but were unable to find one."

"I wonder how many precious potions ingredients have been lost due to the carelessness of potions researchers," Severus snidely commented.

Elena was affronted.  "We were very careful about not wasting any of the Commutati, and searched for other options.  I loved those creatures; they were beautiful, noble, and too friendly for their own good.  We ceased brewing the potion when we discovered how dire their plight was as a species."  She paused for a moment, "Or, that's what Salazar told me.  He might have proceeded on his own.  I wouldn't put it past him."

Severus appeared apologetic, "I was only making a general comment, not accusing you of negligence."

Elena snorted in a very unladylike, unghostly way.  "I'm sure," she said, with a healthy measure of sarcasm.  

She took a cleansing breath.  "I suppose it's now time to tell you how it all went wrong."

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That's it for now.  Next chapter, meet Salazar in a flash back.

Please review if you like it, dislike it, hate it, etc.  I'm desperate.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: You like Harry Potter? So do I, but he's not mine. He and his fellow Hogwartians all belong to the great J.K. Only Elena and the plot are mine.  
  
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12  
  
(Flashback)  
  
Elena swept into her dormitory room with a small smile gracing her features. Her visit home had been canceled due to wizardpox - a non- threatening but highly inconvenient disease contracted by magical folk once in their lifetime. Elena remembered her own experience with the illness, the spiky green and pink dots that had covered her six-year old self.  
  
Oh well, it was uncomfortable and you had to catch it sometime, so she had more gratitude than sympathy for Gertie, her ailing younger sister, since it allowed her to visit Fel Abbey this weekend.  
  
Her parting with Salazar the previous evening had been painful. She wondered if it natural to actually feel physical pain when parting with your beloved, but dismissed the idle thought as she quickly used a series of packing and shrinking spells.  
  
Turning to her fireplace she paused with a handful of floo powder clutched in her small hand. A wicked smile crossed her face as she decided on a whim to surprise her fiancé. Salazar was always giving her wonderful surprises, and she felt that she gave so little back in their relationship.  
  
Decided upon her course of action, Elena penned a quick note to her roommate, Emma, and summoned her broom, a present that Salazar had made himself. Tucking her shrunken bags in the pocket of her traveling cloak Elena perched sidesaddle on the polished ash and shot out of her window.  
  
Little did she know that she was flying toward the worst experience of her life.  
  
13  
  
As Elena flew onto the grounds of Fel Abbey she felt peace fill her veins. These lands recognized her presence, Salazar had ensured that long ago. She felt the wards, wards which would have meant a painful death to any intruders, brush her presence gently, producing a warm tickling sensation that ran along her limbs.  
  
Below her, English tea gardens, hedge mazes, and beautifully landscaped grounds glowed magically in the rust-colored rays of the setting sun. The more time Elena spent at Fel the harder it was to tear herself away from its loveliness.  
  
Setting down gently within the keep's courtyard, Elena hoisted her broom over her shoulder and marched up to the main entrance. The door, a magnificent creation of carved oak and iron, opened before her when she placed a hand on the knocker.  
  
Wanting to genuinely surprise her love, Elena snapped her fingers to summon a house-elf rather than contacting Salazar though the elaborate portrait system that ran through the manse.  
  
A wretched looking creature popped into existence before her and made a clumsy curtsy. "Wilty is surprised you is here, Lady Elena. Master is not telling house-elves to expect Lady Elena, and we is not prepared." The house-elf cringed as she twisted one of her floppy ears.  
  
Elena rolled her eyes. Neither she nor Salazar had ever spoken a harsh word to one of the elves, so she had no idea why they treated their master and soon-to-be-mistress with such painful deference.  
  
"That's fine, Wilty. Your master did not know I would be coming this weekend, so you couldn't have prepared anything."  
  
The elf's eyes widened. "Oh, my Lady. Master is not liking surprises. Master will be," she gulped loudly, "very upset."  
  
"Nonsense, Wilty. Salazar may get cranky sometimes, but I seriously doubt he'll be unhappy that I'm here for the weekend."  
  
The elf looked unconvinced, but nodded her head violently in false agreement.  
  
"Wilty, can you please tell me where Salazar is?" The elf turned pale green in response to what Elena had thought was an innocuous question. "What is it, Wilty? Is he with someone else?" Elena could feel her heart rate pick up as Wilty nodded her head miserably in the affirmative.  
  
"Where is he, Wilty?" The house-elf smacked her palm over her mouth and shook her head, backing away from the upset young woman. "Damn it, Wilty, just tell me where he is. I promise you won't get in trouble."  
  
The elf shook her head more agitatedly and slumped back against a stone wall. Elena took a deep, calming breath. "Wilty, I am giving you an order. Tell me where Salazar is. Now."  
  
Unable to contradict a direct order, Wilty blurted out a squeaky, "Dungeons!"  
  
At this Elena's eyebrows rose. "I didn't know that Fel has dungeons. Are you sure you don't mean labs?" The nervous elf squealed a quick, "Yes!"  
  
Absorbing this information, Elena gave another order to the creature. "Winky, show me where the dungeons are." The elf, looking as though she was being led to her own torture session, limped towards a massive suit of armor that Elena had always admired.  
  
Floating upward, Winky tapped on the figure's breastplate three times in quick succession, followed by two slow taps to the helmet.  
  
Elena watched as the armor became semi-translucent, revealing a set of dark stairs that led downward. Elena gestured to Winky to leave.  
  
As the house-elf popped out of sight Elena muttered "lumos" and began her descent into the murky depths of Fel. With each step she felt her dread grow, as if she were stepping closer and closer to her doom.  
  
When she reached the end of the stairs Elena carefully pulled a vial from her pocket. In it was a sample of the Occaeco potion, one of she and Salazar's newest successes. As she downed the berry-flavored liquid she doused her wand light and set out into the dungeons invisible.  
  
She found herself in was a hall lit by several torches, with cells on each side. Many were empty, but a few held prisoners, people so emaciated and pale that Elena would have thought they were dead, but for the small movements of breathing and the occasional whimper she heard.  
  
Shaking in disbelief Elena continued toward the end of the hallway, where she could hear muffled noises coming from behind a wooden door.  
  
Since there was no way she could enter the room without opening the door in her present form, Elena realized she would have to shift to her animagus shape. When she had finally become an animagus several months ago, she had been surprised, but pleased with her form.  
  
Salazar, though, had laughed for several minutes before shaking his head in dismay. She remembered his exact words as she felt her body shrink to the delicate shape of a holly blue, a small blue butterfly with black spots. "Only you, my dear Elena, would turn into something so utterly beautiful and so utterly useless. Why, I shan't even be able to let you outside in that form. You would be crushed or eaten within moments."  
  
When he saw tears in her eyes after she had transformed back, Salazar had taken her in his arms and whispered, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, love. It is a wonderful accomplishment to become an animagus. It's only that butterflies are such dainty, fragile things. I would worry about you if you were to fly about outside. You shall only change when I'm with you. Understand?"  
  
As Elena was about to protest he covered her lips with his own, silencing any signs of disagreement she might have shown.  
  
Recalling the incident with far less nostalgia than she had previously held, Elena flattened her wings and crawled under the door. Once she had cleared the oaken obstacle, she returned to her true self and viewed the scene before her with rising horror.  
  
Salazar stood before a laboratory table, his clothes and face spattered with blood, his hands soaking in the sticky red substance.  
  
The figure on the table was barely recognizable as a human being. The parts that were not covered in gore were a sickly, marble-white. Cuts, shallow and deep, covered what, Elena realized upon closer examination, was a man. In places the cuts were so deep that white bone showed.  
  
Elena felt light-headed, but dug her nails into her palms to keep from fainting. Before her was her fiancé, her love, the man she thought she knew better than anybody else on the planet, the man she would have called infinitely gentle only minutes ago.  
  
As wild thoughts tumbled in her mind, she heard Salazar's voice addressing the pitiful figure. The same voice that had taught her, that had comforted and complimented her, came out not in the sensuous baritone she was accustomed to, but in a bitter hiss.  
  
"My, my, Alexander what do we have here." Elena thought she might be sick as Salazar held up what appeared to be a toe. " Clumsy of me," Salazar said as he tossed the appendage into a corner. "You always did admire me for my magic skills, were jealous of me and Elena's love, but did you also covet my dexterity with a knife?"  
  
To her shock and revulsion, Elena realized that the figure on the table was Alexander Marchand, a boy she had been friends with since childhood. She recalled with vivid detail all the times that Salazar had complained that she spent too much time with Alex, that the boy would distract her from her studies with his frivolity.  
  
She also recalled Salazar telling her that Alex had been accepted as an apprentice to a dragon-slayer in Persia, explaining his sudden departure from Hogwarts. She had thought it strange that her dear friend had not said goodbye to her, but, lost in her romance with Salazar, Elena had not thought to question it. Now she was horrified by her revelation.  
  
Unable to stand the sight before her and too frightened to confront Salazar, Elena hastily changed back into a butterfly, crawled under the door, and shifted back into her human form.  
  
She ran clumsily down the hallway and up the stairs. As she emerged into the well-lit front hall, Elena hastily removed another vial from the folds of her robe. Gulping down the antidote Elena watched as her arms became visible.  
  
Snapping her fingers, she summoned Wilty once again. In a shaky voice, she pleaded, "Wilty, I'm ordering you to not tell Salazar that I was here. Do you understand?" Wilty blinked up at her.  
  
"Wilty likes Lady Elena, but Wilty cannot lie to Master. House-elves is never lying to Master."  
  
Frustrated, Elena shook her head sharply. "I know that, Wilty. I'm not asking you to lie. Just don't tell Salazar unless he asks you specifically if I was here this weekend, alright?"  
  
"Alright," she squeaked, wringing her hands. "You must be taking care of yourself, Lady Elena. You is looking sick."  
  
Elena nodded distractedly and snatched up her broom. Within moments she was flying to her family home. 


End file.
